Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Tonga and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Niagra to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Motions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tom Boy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Qualms,
Harry Pussy,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Kaleidoscope,
Eden Ahbez,
Suburban Knight,
K-Klass,
CMW,
These Immortal Souls,
Saccharine Trust,
T. Rex,
Reagan Youth,
Crime,
The Angels of Light,
Wire,
Eric Dolphy,
Hoover,
X-Ray Spex,
Lucky Dragons,
Idris Muhammad,
Unwound,
EPMD,
the Human League,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Black Moon,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Glenn Branca,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Andrew Hill,
Dual Sessions,
Brand Nubian,
Donny Hathaway,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Vainqueur,
Pantytec,
Kenny Larkin,
Joensuu 1685,
Siglo XX,
Icehouse,
The Monks,
Soul II Soul,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Albert Ayler,
Barclay James Harvest,
Smog,
Trumans Water,
Black Bananas,
Sexual Harrassment,
Wally Richardson,
Swans,
Silicon Teens,
Mr. Review,
Urselle,
Rod Modell,
Anakelly,
Excepter,
The Seeds,
Jimmy McGriff,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.